


Five Things Jack Harkness Taught Ianto Jones. And One Thing He Didn't.

by thinkpink20



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkpink20/pseuds/thinkpink20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set somewhere in the middle of series 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Jack Harkness Taught Ianto Jones. And One Thing He Didn't.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Nos da' means 'Good night' in Welsh. :)

Jack finds the list when he is tidying up the mess they all left earlier when they stormed out after the errant blowfish with a gun. 

They'd scattered immediately, leaving traces behind of what had really been quite a quiet day, Torchwood-wise. Owen had been cutting up some strange alien foetus washed up in the Bay, Gwen had been talking shoes and handbags with a slightly bewildered Tosh and Jack had spied Ianto hunched over something next to the coffee machine. At first he'd assumed it was his diary, but then he'd spotted that whatever Ianto was writing on was much thinner and he was about to go over for a surreptitious fondle and an eyeful of whatever Ianto was doing when the Rift monitor went off and everything was thrown into chaos.

When they'd finished up with the blowfish it had been so late that Jack had sent them all home.

Well, all except Ianto.

They'd carried the body between them and dumped it in one of the cells, hoping it would sleep off whatever human narcotic it had got it's fins on and wake feeling slightly more like telling them what it was doing here. And if it was alone.

From there they'd gone upstairs into the main Hub and it had only really been a matter of time before Jack had helped Ianto out of that exquisite suit of his and into the soft sheets of his bed. Where Ianto was now sleeping. And snoring. But Jack never told Ianto about that last part because he knew he'd only blush red and try in future not to fall asleep whilst Jack was there.

And Jack liked him falling asleep; it was watching someone you care about doing something that you can never have the luxury of yourself - that element of satisfaction tinged around the edges with a sad shade of envy.

And now he is wandering around the Hub putting everything away that they'd left out in a mess, just to have something to do. He has devoured the last of the cold pizza (sex makes him hungry, he's surprised he's not 50 stone by now) and has just tucked away the papers Tosh was using when he finds that simple sheet of paper Ianto had been writing on.

_'Five Things Jack Harkness Taught Ianto Jones and One Thing He Didn't.'_

Jack smiles, thinks of going back to bed and reading the list out loud until Ianto wakes up and hears him, scrabbling to get the note out of his fingers. But instead he sits down to read. There is a smell of coffee lingering permanently around Ianto's work station and Jack breathes in the familiar smell as Mwfanwy swoops low towards the water tower behind him and then back up to her nest.

_One:_ it says, _How To Be Totally Inappropriate._

Jack laughs. There is a litany of times he has flirted with witnesses at crime scenes or suggested sex in strange places (on the autopsy table is one, next to which Ianto has drawn two stick men kissing next to another stick man labelled 'dead'. Directly in line with the CCTV cameras in the basement whilst Tosh is watching the monitors is another one). There is also a list of sexual aids which Ianto appears to find strange but Jack _still_ doesn't see any problem with and he smiles at one particularly graphic drawing in the bottom left hand corner.

Who knew Ianto was such an artist? 

_Two:_ the next block of text says, _How To Imitate a Weevil Mating Call._

Another wry smile creases up Jack's face. That was one hell of a night. 

They'd gone weevil hunting together, keeping only an obligatory eye on the Activity Monitor in the SUV as they kissed against the bonnet of the car. Jack had been just about to relieve Ianto of his tie when they realised they had an audience.

An _alien_ audience.

"It's the hormones," Jack had told him, as they shoved a bag over their watching weevil's head. "And also that noise you make when I bite your ear."

"What noise?" Ianto had asked, suddenly defensive. 

"Like a squeak."

"I do _not_ squeak."

And then Jack had had to bite his ear again, just to prove it. Before imitating the noise and glancing down at the mostly unconscious weevil on the floor, who twitched.

After that Ianto insisted any ear-biting be kept to indoors, for fear that he would suddenly become weevil-bait. "But it's such a cute noise," Jack had whined.

"You would say that, you're probably part-weevil or something, for all I know."

There'd been wrestling after that, Jack remembers, but only of the playful kind.

_Three: When Not To Disturb A Very Important Phone Call._

This one had only been last week; Jack remembers it so clearly he can almost feel the touch of Ianto's cool fingers as they quietly slipped open his belt, flicked his button and then nudged willing trousers down around his ankles. 

If he shuts his eyes, he can still see the innocent, submissive look Ianto gave him as he got to his knees and looked up, licking his lips.

Jack had been on the phone to the President of the United States and had used the excuse of an escaped homicidal Martian to get off the phone before he moaned into the President's ear.

Which, had it been up to Jack, would have been just fine. But he didn't think the President would have liked it too much; he'd heard he didn't go in for all that.

Ianto had sucked and licked just the way Jack liked it, doing things with his tongue that Jack had personally taught him on long, slow evenings after everyone else had gone home to their considerably more innocent beds. And Ianto was _so_ good at it (after months of practise) that Jack had immediately forgotten everything the President had been talking about, the world suddenly spinning around one very talented Jones on his knees in the Torchwood office.

Yeah, Jack thinks, looking back, that's one hell of a good memory. Smiling, he reads on.

_Four: How To Have Phone Sex._

Jack can tell this block of writing is going to be the most interesting before he even starts. He settles himself further on the seat.

It was relatively early in their relationship and Jack had simply be unable to believe that Ianto was really _that_ innocent.

“You’ve never had phone sex? Ever?”

“If you’ll pardon my French, sir, some of us aren’t dirty beggars like you.”

That had amused Jack - the use of the word ‘sir’ from this particular mouth still sending a jolt of excitement up his spine - and he’d urged immediate correction of this problem.

“We’re going to what?” Ianto had asked, still blushing slightly about his own inexperience.

“Practise. How old are you now, Ianto? There’s no way a guy in his twenties should exist without having had phone sex.”

“I’m doing just fine, I think you’ll find; last week you said I’d given you the best orgasm you’d ever - “

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack had said. Then kissed him. “You’re not getting out of this one. Scoot.”

“Scoot?” Ianto had spoken the word with such derision Jack almost laughed.

“I’ll catch you when you least expect it, now go.”

Then over the following week, Jack had waited for just the right moment; ensuring that everyone else was busy with sudden piles of work he’d given them, Jack had locked himself in his office and dialled the number for the Information Centre upstairs. There were three rings before Ianto’s bored voice answered.

“Hello?”

“What are you wearing?”

There had been a pause during which Jack had taken the opportunity to link his computer in to the CCTV footage of the tourist office. He could see Ianto rolling his eyes slightly, phone in his hand.

“You know what I’m wearing Jack, you saw me this morning.”

Jack had laughed into the mouthpiece, eyes still on his footage of the CCTV. “Okay, phone sex? You’re doing it wrong.”

“You’re only a lift ride and a few yards away, why don’t I just - “

“No, no fun. We’re doing this and we’re doing it properly.”

Ianto had sighed heavily. “You make it sound like an alien investigation.”

“Think of it as an investigation into the sexual consciousness of Ianto Jones.”

“Yeah, because that sounds like more fun.”

But it had been fun; Jack had first got Ianto to lock the outer door and then watched on the monitor as he turned a delightful shade of red in response to all the debauched things he was saying.

Then he made him touch himself and admit that actually, phone sex was rather enjoyable. Of course when it was over, Jack admitted that he’d been watching the whole thing and Ianto refused to speak to him for 24 hours

But it was worth it. Jack feels vaguely proud at the memory as he moves on down the list to point number five.

_Five: How To Appreciate Glenn Miller._

Jack can tell as he reads that of all the things Ianto thinks Jack has taught him, this is his most treasured. His handwriting here gets erratic and slanting, as though he has so much to say, his pen runs away with him.

The paragraph describes an evening that is stuck in Jack’s memory too; a quiet night of Rift activity, Gwen on holiday somewhere with Rhys and Tosh utterly thrilled that Owen had suggested a game of darts and a pint before heading home. Jack had sent Ianto out for pizza and whilst he was gone, he’d linked up his music collection to the entire Hub computer system and switched on all the speakers.

Ianto had arrived back to ‘In The Mood’ and simply raised an eyebrow.

“And here begins your musical education,” Jack had said, before stealing one of the pizzas.

By midnight, they were dancing on the walkway next to the water tower with ‘Moonlight Serenade’ playing low in the background.

“I don’t think Mwfanwy likes your choice of tune,” Ianto had said, his face pressed into the side of Jack’s neck so that Jack felt the vibration of his words all through his body.

“That’s because Owen has been playing her that tuneless dance music he listens to.”

As Jack reads Ianto’s recollection of that night, he remembers distinctly the smell of aftershave mixed with soft kisses, hands linked and dim lighting from the glow of the Hub’s generator. It was like war time, but better. 

Almost against his will, Jack still thinks of ‘Moonlight Serenade’ as their song.

Chastising himself for being so sentimental, Jack gets up and is about to take the note through to his office where he can tuck it away in some secret drawer to glance at on cold days in the future when he realises there is one section he almost forgot.

_And One Thing He Didn’t: How To Remain Detached._

Jack’s breathing stops for a moment, falters under the weight of what he has read. The soft, warm glow that the rest of the page has given him suddenly falls away.

He has a feeling - suddenly - that Ianto didn’t really want him to find this list.

The handwriting here is more formed and rounded, care taken on each word and as Jack reads them, the gloom of the Cardiff night outside seems to creep in around him. 

_How to remain detached, how not to get your feelings involved. How to participate just the right amount yet still be able to back away from a situation and remain aloof. Above everyone, above everything._

_How to share all these things with someone, but never fall in love._

Jack feels his hand shake, stops it dead with one deep breath in, reminding himself where he is.

Stepping through the silence of the Hub in the middle of the night he goes back into his office, down into his quarters and listens softly to the occasional growl of Ianto sleeping. He looks so peaceful, Jack almost doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He has left the note there, under the coffee machine by Ianto’s station so that in the morning he will never know Jack has seen it. Still though, Jack _has_ seen it, and now wishes he hadn’t.

The weight of it is just too much, added to the weight of all the other things, all the other broken hearts and tears that stack up far too high over so many years - so many lives.

Eventually Jack gets onto the bed, curls up behind Ianto and merely slips an arm around him, feeling the heat of his body bleeding through the thin cotton sheets and warming the chill away from Jack’s skin.

He remembers a lover from a planet called Go-Gone, where speech was forbidden for all but the highest echelons and those ‘chosen’ by their god. His lover had found a novel way of communicating with him, and Jack remembers it now.

Using the tip of his finger, he writes on Ianto’s arm. Three words.

Words that he promised himself long ago that he’d never say again.

By the time he has finished, Ianto is stirring.

“Jack?”

“S’okay, only me. Go back to sleep.”

Ianto peers through one bleary eye, manages to look _inside_ Jack even though he’s only half awake. Jack tries to appear innocent, care-free. Eventually Ianto is satisfied by what he sees.

“Nos da,” he mumbles, before going back to sleep.


End file.
